


Friends and Lovers

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:57:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's the difference between sex and love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends and Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Debbie, my inspiration and encouragement while I was knitting this yarn together. Thanks to her, Catherine and Lauren for beta-reading and commenting. Many thanks to Elizabeth for reading and picking out plot holes before I sent the story to all of you. Enjoy. Comments of any kind are welcome. 

## Friends and Lovers

by Yolanda

* * *

Friends and Lovers  
by Yolanda 

Blair: "It seemed like every man Naomi ever met would fall in love with her. She never stayed with any of them for very long." Jim: "Well that's too bad ... I mean, for her"  
\- Spare Parts 

* * *

"What are you staring at?" 

Jim smiled affectionately. "You." A hand reached out to brush the hair from Blair's forehead. "Just wondering how you can see through all these crawlers." 

"Sometimes I can't." Blair caught the hand and kissed the palm. "I could always cut it as short as yours." 

"No way. Do that, and your blessed protector's gonna ..." 

"Gonna what?" He grinned at the bigger man. "I thought you'd already done something to my ass tonight!" He rolled over and sat up. 

"Going so soon?" 

"Yeah, I've still got some marking to do." He leaned down for a quick kiss. "See you in the morning." 

* * *

Jim Ellison watched his guide pick up his clothes and head down the stairs to his own room. He heard Blair stumble on the last step, drop his clothes in his room, and head into the shower. 

The scent of their lovemaking hung still and thick in his bedroom, filling his senses. The taste of Blair was in his mouth, the feel of Blair's skin and hair lingered in his hands. Where Blair had lain, the bed remained warm and indented. 

He could hear Blair in the shower, washing the traces of sex from his body. He was happily humming something. Jim didn't recognize the tune, but then again, the years between them sometimes felt like a generation. The difference didn't often manifest itself, but when it did, Jim was reminded of who he was. An aging cop, set in his ways, unwilling to compromise \-- except for this one person. For Blair, it seemed, he'd do anything, give up everything he'd once held dear. 

His relationship with Blair was one that would have been unthinkable to Jim only a few years earlier. Casual sex with friends was something he'd never believed in. He'd indulged in it a few times, but the hurt hadn't been worth it. Friendship was one thing, and sex was another. In his experience, if you mixed them, you lost both a friend and a lover. Blurred lines didn't make for comfortable relationships. Until Blair had come into his life. 

It seemed a miracle every time Blair came to his bed. With an enthusiastic passion that would admit no obstacles, Blair had entrenched himself in the loft, and made himself an integral part of Jim's life. He had brought joy to Jim, a feeling that the Sentinel had not experienced in more years than he cared to consider. 

The turning point in their friendship had come about a year after they'd met. Jim had first been annoyed by the young anthropologist. That had turned into a familiar amusement, as Blair had gained his trust and his affection. The kid had held up well after being nearly killed in numerous situations -- even after being kidnapped by a serial killer. Jim had seen other cops take stress leave after incidents less strenuous than that. Blair's emotional resilience impressed Jim; his guide's intelligence and sharp wit amused him and had saved both their lives on more than one occasion. 

And then Blair had announced that he might leave. He'd received an offer to join a project in Borneo. It was the chance of a lifetime -- to study under a prestigious professor, to do original research on a long-lost tribe. Jim told Blair to go to Borneo, and hoped that his true feelings didn't show on his face. The phone rang, saving him from being quizzed by his partner about how he really felt -- the news was that Simon and his son had gone missing in Peru. Events moved quickly after that call; they'd immediately packed up and flown to South America. They returned from Peru to find an urgent message for Blair on the machine -- call and let the professor know if he wanted to go to Borneo. 

Jim handed his partner a beer while the message played. He'd spent the trip back from Peru bracing himself for the loss, coming to terms with the depths of his affection for his partner -- coming to realize what Blair's absence would mean to him. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he needed Blair in his life, that losing him would be like renouncing the taste of water, rejecting the warmth of fire. When Blair told him that he wasn't accepting the job, he'd been unable to control the smile that spread over his face. 

He still didn't know what turning down that opportunity had done to his partner's academic career. He only knew that it had turned his own life upside down. 

They kept drinking and talking all afternoon and into the evening -- it hadn't felt right to either of them to be apart. Eventually, they ended up staggering to the couch. Jim sat down first, his legs unable to hold him upright any longer. Blair joined him a few seconds later, in an untidy sprawl that ended up with his leg draped over Jim's. Jim ran his hand along the other man's jeans. It started as a gesture of affection, a little more intimate than their usual contact, but not by much. 

Blair's hum of pleasure changed the meaning of the touch. 

Jim had rationalized his subsequent actions to himself many times over the years since. He'd been drunk on alcohol and affection, otherwise it would never have happened. His hands continued to roam along his partner's legs, rubbing at the muscles in his calves, his thighs. When he dared to look at Blair's face, he saw that his partner's eyes were closed; his entire body focused on Jim's hands. 

Jim was entranced by the moment. He could feel the vibrations from his partner's throat, the heat of his partner's skin through his clothes. It was a moment of decision, of choice. To go forward seemed the only option, to run his hands along Blair's hips, under his shirt, to finally feel bare skin under his fingertips. 

Blair giggled, breaking the erotic tension of the moment. 

Jim pulled his hands away. "Sorry," he muttered. 

Blair sat up and caught at his hands, pulling them towards himself. "Hey, don't stop. You tickled, is all." 

Jim dared to meet his partner's eyes then. There was affection in them, and desire. Laugh lines darted out from the corners of his eyes, caused by the smile on his mouth. 

His _partner's_ mouth. Which was coming closer. Jim closed his eyes as their lips met. He sorted through the tastes of Blair's mouth -- beer, pizza sauce, cheese, and another flavour that matched the scent of Blair, musk and a bittersweet tang. His hands came up to tangle themselves in Blair's hair, releasing little bursts of shampoo and scent. 

"Hey," Blair said, "do you want to take this upstairs? It might be a little more comfortable." 

Jim couldn't quite believe this was happening to him. To them. He held Blair tightly in his arms and nodded. Together, they stumbled across the room up the stairs. Shed clothing marked their path. 

Blair was standing by the bed, unbuttoning his jeans. His shirt had been discarded at the foot of the steps. Jim was mesmerized by the movement of his hands, by his flexible, dextrous fingers. 

Blair looked up and caught Jim's stare. He grinned and tugged his pants down, pulling first one leg out, then the other. "Lessee, where were we?" He attacked Jim then, pulling his mouth down for another long kiss. "Hmm ... one of us is overdressed for this occasion." His fingers fumbled at Jim's waist, unbuttoning the jeans, sliding them down his hips. "That's better, don't you think?" 

Jim laughed. His guide had a way of making everything seem so much simpler. They were together, they were attracted to each other, they were falling in love. It was as simple and as complicated as that. He sat on the bed and pulled Blair to him, running his hands along the muscles of the other man's back. He rubbed his face into Blair's chest hair, inhaling his scent, licking at a nipple. 

Blair's hands trailed along Jim's shoulders, rubbing and squeezing. He giggled, and Jim pulled back to look up at him. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, Jim. Never thought you'd be interested though." 

"Shut up, Chief." He pulled Blair down on the bed with him. "You talk too much." One arm held Blair's chest to his, one leg snaked over Blair's hips to squeeze their crotches together. Their cocks connected, and Blair gasped into Jim's mouth. They ground against each other for a few moments, and then Blair's hand reached between them to squeeze Jim's cock. 

The touch devastated Jim. He bucked into the hand, moaned into his friend's mouth. Blair broke their kiss and nudged Jim onto his back. His hand squeezed Jim's cock, his mouth travelled down Jim's body. Bites on his neck, kisses on his shoulder, tongue over his nipples. Blair's hair almost-tickled Jim's sensitive nerve endings as his mouth moved down to Jim's cock. Opened and closed. Too hot, too quick, too good. Jim's orgasm took him by surprise. He gasped at the shock of it, a startled explosion into Blair's mouth, against his face. 

A bit remorsefully, he pulled his guide up to lie across his body. He wiped the semen off Blair's face with the edge of a sheet. 

Blair grinned, "Hey, it wasn't a race, you know." 

"Yeah, well it's been a while for me. And you caught me off-guard." He rolled Blair over on his back, letting his hand wander down to squeeze Blair's cock. "Now it's your turn." 

He captured Blair's mouth with his own, taking possession, claiming ownership. It was a pleasure to feel the other man cry into his mouth. It was bliss to move skin against skin, to feel Blair's longing and be the stimulus for his release. It was joy to fall asleep, at last, with Blair held tight in his arms. 

When he awoke, he was alone. He could hear Blair in his room, asleep in his own bed, breath steady, heartbeat at resting pace. Jim puzzled over what their encounter meant to Blair. Obviously, he thought, this was a casual affair for his partner, neither a fling -- they were too close for that -- nor a permanent liaison. Jim was saddened by the thought. He'd not make the mistake of sleeping with Blair again. Having sex with someone was a meaningful event, not to be taken lightly or when it seemed convenient. 

How could he tell Blair about his thoughts? Should he even mention his decision, or just avoid being alone with Blair? Could he keep his desire for Blair separated from the life and friendship that they'd built together? 

He turned and looked at the clock. 3 am. The darkest part of the morning, matching the dark time in his heart. Blair had said that day that it was about friendship -- that was the reason he'd turned down the job in Borneo. Blair's definition of friendship included sex; Jim's didn't. One of them had to change his mind. He tossed until morning, searching his soul for impossible answers. 

Almost two years later, he was still not sure he'd made the right choice. 

* * *

"It's not that I don't care about you." Well at least she'd stopped crying. 

"Uh, Christine ..." 

"No, don't say anything else. You're a user, Blair." He wasn't sure that this cold statement was preferable to the alternative. 

"But ... " 

"Let me finish. It's not that you don't care about people -- I know you do. It's that you can't commit to a pet, let alone another human being." 

* * *

Blair couldn't decide what he hated most about midterms: preparing the questions, proctoring the exam, marking them afterwards, or listening to the students complain about their marks. The first step was over, and he was deep into the interminable boredom of the second. 

The rustle of papers alternated with the sighs of students in the hall. Someone's pen clicked, another person coughed. He could hear the rattle of a building fan in the distance. He looked around the bent heads in the lecture hall. The students seemed to get younger every year, and he wondered if he'd ever been that innocent. 

He thought back to his fight with Christine, the night before. They'd just made love, and then he'd gotten out of bed to get dressed. He still didn't know what had set her off. He'd waited a decent amount of time after they'd finished. They'd chatted for a while, stroking and kissing. And then he'd felt like he was falling asleep, so he'd decided that it was time to leave. 

It wasn't the first breakup he'd ever had, but it seemed to be the hardest one to take so far. Christine was wrong -- wasn't she? He could make a commitment. Just look at his partnership with Jim. 

He smiled to himself. It had been an unlikely friendship. Still was, if you looked at it objectively. Jim was such a conventional police officer that Blair's friends and family -- well, Naomi -- still couldn't believe that they could get along, let alone live together and be such good friends. 

But there was something that held them together. Jim needed Blair, in a way that no one else ever had before. And Blair liked being Jim's partner. Liked being with the other man, liked his company, and even, in some twisted way, liked the adrenaline rush of being in on the chase to a crime scene. And of course, there was the sex. They were good together in bed, too. Jim knew all the sensitive places on Blair's body, was always finding new ways to make him moan, to bring him to that joyous place. 

Their first time together had been a surprise to Blair. He had just made the most difficult decision of his life, to stay in Cascade with Jim, and they'd proceeded to get drunk and silly together. It had been a sweet encounter, one which Blair always remembered with warm joy. 

Who could have known that Jim would be such a careful lover? Blair had been surprised by the gentle strength of his friend, the way his eyes had smiled while they were making love, and afterward, the way his arms had held him tightly, safely. 

"Blair?" His thoughts were interrupted by a student's question. "For the essay question -- do you care which society we use as an example?" 

He shook the memories out of his head and looked up at the student. "No, it doesn't matter. It'll be easier on you if you use one that we've studied in the class, but you can choose any society you like." 

* * *

Blair called Jim when the exam was finally over. He needed some company to distract him from his thoughts. "Hey man, it's me. You up for lunch today?" 

"Sorry Chief, I've already got plans with Simon. I can probably do dinner tonight. See you then?" 

"Yup. I'll take care of making it. Got a truckload of midterms to keep me company, too." 

"Ok, bye." 

* * *

He carried the groceries and his pile of exams into the loft. More time alone to think. That wasn't what he wanted, but he'd called a bunch of people for lunch, and none of them had been available. 

That just gave him more time to remember what Christine had said last night. Too much time. She'd called him a user, unable to commit. She was wrong. Wasn't she? 

He thought a little more about his life. Most of it had been spent on the move. Whether it was as a child, travelling around the country with Naomi, or as an adult itinerant scholar, he'd quartered the globe many times. Whether it had been New York or Peru, he'd never stayed in any place more than a few years. If the average held true, he was due for a move now. He found himself reluctant to think about that possibility, and his thoughts travelled back to Jim. 

They'd been partners for almost three years now, and sleeping together for most of that time. It wasn't a formal arrangement; the encounters happened occasionally, whenever both were in the mood. There was a feeling that he'd come to recognize, a need that was almost a plapable tension between the two of them. It was a look in Jim's eyes, an electricity in the air between them. 

After the first time they'd slept together, Jim had seemed to withdraw. He was distant for a few weeks, but there was nothing that Blair could exactly pinpoint. Were they spending fewer hours together in the week? Was Jim touching him less often? Were their conversations less easy, more awkward? 

It was difficult to quantify the quality of the time they were spending together, and Blair just shrugged it off as a phase of their relationship. Yes, they'd slept together, but he was sure that Jim felt the same way he did; it was a nice addition to their friendship, but shouldn't be taken any further. A little awkwardness was to be expected, given the change, but they'd smooth it over and things would return to normal, in time. And he was proven correct. 

About a month afterwards, Jim had hurt himself chasing after a car thief. Blair had tried to make him comfortable on the couch, and brought him a cup of tea. Everything he did seemed to make Jim grumpier. Finally, he'd given up and sat down on the couch across from his friend. 

"What do you want from me?" He hadn't intended them to have any other meaning, but as soon as the words came out, he heard his own double entendre. 

"Nothing, Chief. Just leave me alone." Jim used the remote to turn the volume up on the television, drowning out anything Blair might say, interrupting the thoughts chasing themselves around his head. 

He moved then, quickly, frustratedly, away from the living room. Walking behind the couch, he could feel pain coming from the other man. He looked then, and saw the tension in Jim's shoulders, in the set of his jaw. He slowed, and one hand moved to Jim's neck, squeezing a little. As his partner seemed to relax, the other hand joined the first. Thumbs and fingers rubbed tense neck muscles, felt the other man ease into his hands. 

"Hey, if you take your sweater off, I can do your shoulders." He was feeling a little guilty. His friend was hurt, and he'd been off in his own little world. The television should have given it away. Jim wouldn't have needed to increase the volume; he'd just been trying to make Blair leave. It had almost worked. 

"Be gentle." Jim pulled off his sweater a little awkwardly; his shoulder muscles had been pulled when he'd tackled the thief. 

Blair's hands rubbed over the back of Jim's shirt, feeling the taut muscles underneath slowly begin to relax. He lost himself in the motions. Rub and squeeze, move a little, rub and squeeze again. Listen to Jim's moans and hit that spot again, relieve the pressure. After a little while, he realized that he was getting aroused, touching Jim. A little tentatively, he bent down and kissed the back of Jim's neck. 

The other man had turned to him slowly, as if he'd been fighting something within himself. And then he'd reached out hungrily, as if he'd made some kind of decision, taking Blair's head in his hands, claiming his mouth and then his body. 

* * *

The phone rang, interrupting Blair's train of thought. 

"Hi honey, it's me." 

"Naomi?" 

"Something told me that I should call you. Are you all right? I don't hear any guns firing, so you must be at home." 

"Uh, yeah, I'm great. Hey, there's something I've been meaning to ask you." 

"Of course dear, what is it?" 

"The same question I ask you every few years." 

"No dear, I won't tell you who your father is. Oh! I've got to go now. The swami is calling us back in. Goodbye dear." 

"Bye." The phone clicked before he finished the word. 

* * *

Naomi was a great mother, Blair thought, but she'd missed the boat on a few things. Like showing him the meaning of commitment and love. Not that she didn't love him, but it was with the same ease and open hand that she used for every other relationship in her life. She had a lot of friends all over the world, but never stayed with any of them for long. 

For most of his life, Blair had lived his life on his mother's model. He made friends quickly, moved easily through all sorts of groups of people. That had changed when he'd met Jim. For the first time in his life, he'd found a place to call home, not just to hang his hat, but also all the things he'd collected on his travels. 

And Jim was at the centre of his home. Blair thought a little more of his friend, and how different he was from his mother. Stable and reliable were words which began to describe Jim, but there was so much more to him than that. He was caring in so many ways, from the little favours he did for Blair, to the risks he took every day on behalf of his community. He was thoughtful and intelligent, whether he was picking up clues, talking to the media, or arguing with Blair. He was funny and charming and belligerent and defensive. And Blair loved him, all the little contradictory parts, all the big affectionate details. 

He sat back on the couch and realized that, despite his studies of the Sentinel, he had missed a significant detail, one which changed everything else. 

Jim was in love with him. So in love that he had been perpetuating a behavioural anomaly -- taking whatever Blair would give him; getting little in return beyond physical release. Jim was not a man who took uncertainty well. He preferred his facts quantifiable, his evidence solid. Blair knew all this about his friend, but had never before added them to their transitory nights together. 

When Blair thought about it, he realized that he had been the one to initiate every encounter. The second time they'd made love, Jim had seemed so reluctant to reciprocate. The third time, Blair had been dumped by his date. Hot and horny, he'd come home to find Jim half-asleep on the couch, entirely desirable in his vulnerability. Another time, they'd been in the kitchen preparing dinner. Blair had given Jim a taste of the sauce. Some had dripped down Jim's chin, so Blair had leaned up to lick it off. Jim had responded quickly then, almost hungrily. Standing in the kitchen, they'd attacked each other. They hadn't even undressed fully; they'd needed each other so much. 

And then, he realized, the turning point had come. Blair had been trapped in an elevator rigged by a bomber. He'd been able to hear Jim's voice, through his cellphone, through the speakers. Jim had been able to see him through the elevator camera, had been unable to do anything to help him. Hadn't even been able to stop the bomber -- Galileo -- from detonating the briefcase bomb. He'd heard the explosion and hadn't found out that Blair had survived. Had gone through some awful moments of sorrow, grief and helplessness. 

When they'd gotten back to the loft, Jim had put his arms around him and held him tightly, silently. Then they'd solemnly undressed each other and made love carefully, worshipfully, as if it had been their first time, as if it might be their last time together. It had been the most moving experience of Blair's life. 

And then Blair had left Jim's bed and gone to his own. He'd never spent the night with Jim, with any of his lovers. 

How much had that hurt Jim? He accused himself of using Jim to get his rocks off. But it wasn't like that at all. He did love the bigger man. His friend. His sometime lover. The sex was a manifestation of the love, and Jim understood that. Didn't he? 

So why hadn't Jim ever initiated any of their encounters? Blair always made the first move, except for the first time, when Jim's caress had sent his thoughts about his friend into a tailspin, bringing out a primal surge of desire. Jim's touch always did that to him. Always. 

And forever? The thought was alien, but not unwelcome. He thought he could do forever, if it was with Jim. 

He'd spent the first part of his life on the move, looking for the next opportunity, the next friend or lover. He had found someone who had become both his best friend and the most caring lover he'd ever had. Yeah, forever might be long enough to spend getting to know Jim. 

* * *

When he came home, he found Blair sitting on the couch, in the darkness. 

His partner turned to him, and there were diamonds glittering in the corners of his eyes. "How long?" 

"What?" Jim was confused. The last time they'd talked, it had been about lunch. 

"How long have you loved me?" One diamond fell, leaving a trail of silver down his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Jim was startled into admitting the truth. "Didn't want to scare you away." 

"So you just let me take advantage of you?" Was that anger in his voice? 

A denial now would probably be pointless and painful in the long run. Honesty might be the best policy. "No, I let you go. Didn't want to change you. Loved you -- love you -- for you. Didn't matter how much you hurt me." Just let it all out. "Would wait forever, if that's what it took." And don't let it take that long. Please. 

"You're not a table leg, Jim, you're a human being. And I hate that I hurt you." 

"You didn't mean to." The silver trail was fading, and Jim finally reached out to him, to brush it all away. 

"Didn't think, and that's what _I'm_ supposed to be good at." 

"Clashing value systems." He met Blair's eyes. Windows to his soul, some ex-girlfriend had said, and it was true. There was pain there, but also trust and hope. 

"Now you're sounding like me." Blair finally moved forward, putting his arms around Jim, burying his face into Jim's chest. 

"Been studying you for a long time." He took his friend into his arms. Cradled his head in his hands. Held him tightly, closely. Forever. 

/fin d'histoire/ 


End file.
